


Beautiful Trauma

by CapricornBookworm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Snogging, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 00:11:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13155009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapricornBookworm/pseuds/CapricornBookworm
Summary: Sometimes trauma is what brings people together.





	Beautiful Trauma

A chill fell over the grounds, dark clouds taking over the sky in a silent ambush, gentle wind skimming through the trees like an ominous whisper. 

Harry walked down the steps of the castle, hands stuffed in the pockets of his Quidditch jumper. He wore it constantly these days, holes and tears forming in the worn fabric. He longed for the days when he had team practices lasting late into the evening, soaring through the sky until it filled with stars. He missed the feeling of rain beating down on his face, the shocking sensation of each raindrop reminding him that he was alive. 

Quidditch made him feel like nothing he could ever describe. 

It was even harder to explain what it felt like not to have Quidditch in his life anymore. It was almost as if he was missing a limb, the Quidditch Pitch a constant reminder of what was no longer there, his body buzzing with a numbing sort of pain.

After the war, McGonagall made the decision to disband the Quidditch program. The castle and the grounds had suffered losses from the Battle, and even with magic, the process of rebuilding Hogwarts was daunting and tedious. The Pitch had been decimated in the warfare, and McGonagall thought it best to shield the broken students from any further heartache. Though her intentions were pure, the loss of such a definitive part of Hogwarts culture was gut-wrenching. 

Harry padded across the main lawn, spotting pieces of rubble mixed in with the soft ground. The Battle was becoming a part of Hogwarts, both its present and its future. He didn’t quite know where he was headed. He simply walked along, trusting his feet to carry him. 

Eventually he looked up and found that he was standing at the edge of the Black Lake. He looked out over the vast body of water, watching the clouds roll in through the reflection. In the distance, Harry heard the rustling of trees and the crack of a twig. He couldn’t be bothered to turn around. He spent so many years of his life looking for danger at every turn, expecting the worst and nearly always being right. He had faced death in more ways than one, far more times than he could count. But now….. Now, the war was over. 

And Harry was done fighting.

He bent down and picked up a rock from the shoreline, running his fingers over the smooth surface and turning it over in his hands. Following his instincts, he drew his arm back, flicking his wrist and watching as the stone soared across the water, skimming the dark surface and leaving a sea of ripples in its wake. 

A voice came from behind Harry, “Your technique is abysmal.”

Without turning around, Harry replied, picking up another stone and preparing to throw it, “Well, I never had any intention of pursuing a career in rock-skimming, so I honestly don’t give a fuck.”

“Touchy, Potter? I was merely making an observation.” Footsteps neared Harry, and the voice spoke once more in a haughty tone, “Speaking of which, that jumper looks truly pathetic, I can spot at least ten holes. Have you never heard of magic? Or a house elf?”

Harry chucked the rock with more force than before, watching as it connected harshly with the water, cutting through it like a knife. “Save it for someone who cares.”

Someone stepped into Harry’s peripheral vision, but he barely spared a glance. He closed his eyes and felt a gust of wind roll through his body, the power of it making Harry feel weightless in a world that was trying to weigh him down. 

“Why are you out here? I thought Granger planned some sort of ‘inter-house gathering.’”

Harry let out a sigh, running a hand through his messy head of hair, “ _Hermione_ , did plan something. I did not.”

A moment passed with words unsaid.

Another gust of wind blew past the pair of them, the sheer force of it reminding Harry of the rush of a nose-dive during a Quidditch Match, his heart beating steadily in his chest. He let it wash over him. 

When Harry finally turned toward the voice, he was greeted by a pair of eyes the very color of the storm that was brewing overhead. A deep grey with subtle hints of silver, the pupils spreading out slowly, dark as the ground beneath them. 

“Your hair looks hideous, Potter.”

Harry took a step towards Malfoy, watching his eyes widen. Harry observed something like fear spiraling below the surface, evident in the tight clench of his jaw, the unusual pallor of his cheeks. 

“I hear you failed your Potions exam. Professor Allerton is hardly a qualified Potions professor, she barely knows how to make a Draught of Living Death. It’s pitiful.”

Harry only stepped closer. 

Malfoy swallowed audibly, the tendons in his long neck tensing, his tone faltering, “You know, there are other styles of glasses that aren’t so bloody round. These ones make you look like a prat.”

Harry finally spoke, now close enough that he could feel the warmth of Malfoy’s breath across his jawline, “I’m done fighting.”

Malfoy simply stared back at him, not moving closer, but not moving away.

Harry reached up, allowing his instincts to lead him. He grazed his fingers across the skin below Malfoy’s ear, trailing it down until he was cupping the jaw, his thumb tracing a light arc over the smooth skin it found there. Malfoy’s lips parted. Harry’s fingers followed his gaze, and he ran his thumb over Malfoy’s plump bottom lip, feeling a touch of moisture that seemed to set the nerves in his fingers alight. As he traced the curve of Malfoy’s lips, pressing his thumb into the cupid’s bow, Malfoy let out a shivering breath. 

When Harry refocused his vision, he found that Malfoy’s eyes were closed, his forehead smooth, the expression on his face more peaceful than Harry had ever seen it. The vulnerability struck Harry like a blow to the chest. He felt as though all the air had been sucked out of his lungs, momentarily paralyzed. 

Malfoy wet his lips shakily, his eyelids fluttering but still remaining closed. Harry felt himself being pulled toward Malfoy, a tether drawing him to connect, to touch, to taste. Harry’s own eyes fell shut as he leaned in, touching his lips to Malfoy’s, the light kiss allowing Harry to breathe once more. Harry pressed his forehead against Malfoy’s, breathing heavily, his entire body exhilarated by the beauty of such a simple touch. 

Malfoy spoke quietly in Harry’s ear, his voice sounding rough, “Your lips are horribly chapped.”

Harry let out a huff of laughter, a smile stretching across his face as he leaned back in for another kiss, “Oh, shut it.” 

They began to move their lips against one another, drowning together in the warmth, exchanging far more than breath between them. Malfoy brought his hand to Harry’s hips, while Harry’s hands continued to trail over Malfoy’s face and neck. 

Around the pair of them, a storm was building, dark and powerful. 

As Malfoy let out a small moan into Harry’s mouth, Harry felt a drop of water hit his cheek. Then another drop fell onto Malfoy’s nose, the tip of Harry’s ear, and the back of Malfoy’s neck. They looked up in unison, watching as the sky opened up above them, a sheet of rain pouring down from the heavens.

Harry dug his fingers into Malfoy’s hair, tilting his head back toward him. He captured Malfoy’s lips, feeling as the rain began to coat his skin.

“This seems highly uncivilized. There are spells that could keep us dry,” Malfoy pulled back for a moment, looking at Harry as though he was prepared to develop a detailed argument against snogging in the rain. Harry raised an eyebrow, waiting for a fight. There was a instant of hesitation, the wind whistling through the trees around them, and then without warning Malfoy grabbed two fistfuls of Harry’s jumper, pulling him in for a heart-stopping kiss. 

They kissed as though they were locked in a battle for the Snitch, rising and falling together, their moves complementing one another perfectly. It was thrilling, terrifying, and perfect in a very imperfect sort of way. 

They both had stopped fighting. After all that they had been through, they were finally letting go.

****

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title comes from the song "Beautiful Trauma" by P!nk. Hope you all enjoyed this fic <3


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